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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29574078">Twelve Minutes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LumosLyra/pseuds/LumosLyra'>LumosLyra</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Praises, Pleasures &amp; Perfection [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Baking, Biscuits Equal Foreplay, Dad Bod Harry, F/M, Harry is Inexplicably Turned On by Baked Goods, Kitchen Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Thick Thighed Pansy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 23:09:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,966</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29574078</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LumosLyra/pseuds/LumosLyra</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There's twelve minutes between each batch of biscuits and Pansy is still wearing the pale-pink silk pajamas that drive Harry to distraction. </p>
<p>Sequel to Brownie Batter. Praises Universe.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Pansy Parkinson/Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Praises, Pleasures &amp; Perfection [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1833745</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>46</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Twelve Minutes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecemarty/gifts">cecemarty</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>My lovely amazing friend, I hope this bit of fluffy smut helps brighten your day, even though I know your week has been absolute shite. I adore you, I'm here for you. &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was no secret that Harry was a fan of his wife’s baking. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Predictably, after James was born, she’d curtailed her baking a bit in lieu of caring for their infant and he’d promptly dropped back to pre-brownie batter weight simply due to the lack of pastry and cake within his home. She’d picked it up again once Jamie was just a bit older and napped more predictably and now his Auror uniform was stretching just a bit around his mid-section, not that she minded. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>If anything, Pansy preferred what Hermione had called his </span>
  <em>
    <span>dad bod</span>
  </em>
  <span> to whatever his body had looked like before. If it meant he could keep eating the numerous confections his wife baked, he was perfectly content to send his uniform off to be let out a bit. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was the smell of freshly baked bread that filled his nose this morning and he was greeted to the sight of half-a-dozen loaves cooling on their kitchen island when he wandered down to the kitchen with Jamie perched on his hip. He secured the tot in his highchair while Pansy tore up a piece of warm bread and whipped up some scrambled eggs for their little boy. After giving their son his cup of milk, he crossed the kitchen and wrapped his arms around Pansy’s waist, fingers slipping beneath the soft silk of her pajamas to rest against her stomach. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Pansy leaned back against him, cooling the scrambled eggs with a wave of her wand and levitating them to the tray of Jamie’s high chair along with the bits of bread. “Good morning,” she said as Harry dropped a line of kisses over her shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Morning,” he muttered, lips trailing over her neck until he could nip at her ear. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry James Potter, if you get something started that you can’t finish right now, I’ll give all of this bread to Granger and her boys.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He paused, her earlobe still poised between his teeth, eyes sliding over to see their eighteen month old shoveling eggs into his mouth by the fistful. Reluctantly, Harry pulled back, dropping a kiss to her crown and withdrawing his hands from beneath her blouse. “I love him, but I miss the days where I could just bend you over the counter without worry of interruption.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And without me restricting your carb-habit,” she teased, slicing a piece of bread from the loaf and passing it back to him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He savoured the smell of the freshly baked bread on a long inhale. “You do realize this is foreplay, right?” Harry said, taking a bite and nearly moaning aloud from the taste of it alone. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Pansy sliced another piece and buttered it. “This isn’t foreplay, the biscuits I’m baking later while Hermione and her lot watch Jamie for a few hours however…” Her voice trailed off and she turned in his arms, a cheeky smile on her lips as she bit into the slice of bread. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Harry glanced at Jamie and up at the clock, fingers stroking over the generous curve of her waist, “Well, Mrs. Potter… I suppose I’ll just have to help.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She snorted a laugh, a small indelicate sound that wrinkled her turned-up nose. “Stay out of my kitchen, Potter. The twelve minutes it takes a batch to bake isn’t enough time for you to do anything other than frustrate me further.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that a challenge?” he asked, brows raising above the frame of his glasses. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her violet eyes glinted in the light as her lips, shiny from the butter on the bread, parted in a pretty pout. The sight of it made him want to devour her in the middle of their kitchen, egg-covered child be damned. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Witches never tell.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>___________</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He’d worked in his office for part of the morning, Jamie happily babbling away in the play-pen until it was time to take the little boy over to Hermione’s for a few hours. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>How he’d ever come to trust the two men Hermione was involved with, let alone value their friendship was beyond him. Even so, he happily passed the baby off to Thorfinn, shook Antonin’s hand, and hugged Hermione before he quickly excused himself through the Floo. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Their home already smelled like biscuits, the tantalizing scent clinging to the air as he stepped out of the fireplace. It didn’t matter why she was baking biscuits or for whom she was baking them, all that mattered was the fact that his perfect wife was happily bustling around the kitchen and they had an afternoon free. She hadn’t even changed out of her pajamas, leaving her in a pale-pink silk set that hugged her curves and left an ample amount of olive-toned skin visible. Her dark waves had been pulled up onto her head in a messy bun and a line of flour was brushed across one cheek. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He watched her for a moment from the doorway, listening to the rustle of silk against her skin, the scrape of the spatula against the side of the bowl, and the quiet sounds of her tasting the dough. Her hips swayed to the jazz coming from the wireless as she dipped a finger into the dough before popping it into her mouth. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I can think of better uses for that mouth,” Harry said, pushing off from the frame of the door and stepping fully into the kitchen. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His wife seemed completely unfazed as she began depositing uniform scoops of biscuit dough from the bowl onto a sheet pan. “Your cock is still in your trousers and there are still—” Pansy’s head tilted to observe the </span>
  <em>
    <span>tempus</span>
  </em>
  <span> charm hovering in the air “—three minutes between batches.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How did you—”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Pansy laughed, twisting the sheet pan around and dropping another scoop of batter onto the tray.  “You’ve never in your life walked into my kitchen without, at minimum, pants on, Harry Potter. Goodness knows, I have baked and frosted a cake entirely in the nude and I’ll eat my words if you’re not still fully clothed.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A huff of breath left his lungs as he glanced down at his body, trousers, shirt, belt, and shoes still fully in place “When did you—? You know what, never mind. Nothing you do surprises me anymore.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She checked the charm again before levitating the sheet-pan to hover just above the two others she had ready to go in the oven. “One of these days, I might prove you wrong,” she said, sending the bowl to wash itself in the sink before turning around, full lips curved upward into a smile. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The distance closed between them with each step he took until Harry gathered Pansy in his arms and fell the gentle slip of her fingers against his back. “How long do we have?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His lips found her neck as her head tilted to check the timer, “One minute until the next set of biscuits goes in, after that, twelve minutes between.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Harry groaned against the soft skin of her throat, the feel of her pulse fluttering beneath his lips. “Plenty of time,” he muttered, hands drifting down to curl around the generous curve of her arse. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re awfully confident, Chosen One” she said, hands tugging his shirt free from his belted trousers, a smirk playing over her lips. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His hand came down quick over her arse, pulling a yelp from her throat. “Good girls keep their pretty mouths from using nicknames their husbands hate.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, Harry,” she laughed, the apples of her cheeks turning pink and her fingers fisting in the fabric of his shirt, “When have you ever known me to be good?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A smile spread across his mouth as one of his hands tightened over Pansy’s hip while the other cupped the back of her head, drawing her closer. “You’re right, Pansy. I much prefer the filthy things that come out of your mouth to anything resembling </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Defiance shone bright in her eyes, her chin slowly tilting upward bringing their lips a hair's-breadth apart. “Is that how we’re going to play, Chosen One?” A flick of her wand and the oven door opened, one tray of perfectly cooked biscuits replaced with another unbaked, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>tempus</span>
  </em>
  <span> charm glinting above their heads restarting. “Then I guess, you’d better show me exactly what happens to dirty girls like me.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her hands slammed against the polished marble of the counter as he spun her around, yanking her hips back and spreading her legs with a press of his boot to her foot. Harry’s fingers slipped beneath the silk shorts, brushing through the neatly trimmed curls at the apex of her thighs, finding his wife hot and slick. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Dirty girl, look at you. Always unbearably warm.” Harry eased two fingers into her, biting back a moan as her walls tightened around him. “How long have you been like this, Pans?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Pansy’s back arched, soft moans tumbling over her lips with each stroke of Harry’s fingers, “Since breakfast, you tease.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His hand slipped around from her hip to cover the softness of her stomach, as his slick-covered fingers teased her with each slow press and withdrawal. “That long? You must be desperate then, thinking about this for hours.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Merlin knew he was. He’d been half-hard since breakfast watching Pansy bustle around the kitchen in her silk pajamas, directing ingredients into bowls and swishing her hips just so. She must have been doing it on purpose because each little bounce and twist seemed too practised to be accidental. It drove him mad, knowing he could look but not touch, neither of them willing to go beyond light petting with Jamie in the room. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But now, he could touch and tease her all he wanted. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Well, all he wanted within a twelve minute time-frame. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Dripping. Mmm… Had to change my knickers.” She pressed back against his fingers, invariably seeking more pressure and he pulled back, the pads of his fingers drawing quiet circles at the edge of her entrance. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Should’ve left the knickers where they were, let all that lovely slick bleed through your bottoms. You’re ripe, Pansy. If the kitchen wasn’t overwhelmed by the smell of biscuits, I’d have been able to smell you, wouldn’t I?” Harry’s fingers withdrew completely, leaving a telltale trail of wetness over the soft skin of her thigh. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn’t usually the mouthy one of their relationship, whispering a plethora of dirty words into her ear, but gods if he didn’t love imagining her thighs glistening with evidence of her arousal as she baked treats for him in their kitchen. He loved the scent of her, the feel of her, the way her cunt positively dripped for him—as if she were his own personal amortentia. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She whimpered, hips wiggling in righteous desperation, begging for contact as he eased one hand beneath her shirt while the other worked her shorts down her legs. Calloused fingers played over her nipple, pulling the peaked bud between them. Kittenish mewls fell from parted lips as his hips pressed against her arse, the outline of his cock evident through the soft fabric of his trousers. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s mean to tease,” she murmured, reaching back and over her head to tangle her hands in his unruly hair. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He rolled her nipple again, fingers slipping once more over her stomach to rest against her sex. “Patience, Pansy. Even naughty girls get their way sometimes.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Give me my present, then.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Harry chuckled, hand pulling back from her blouse only to press against her back, forcing her front to meet the cool marble with a hiss, her arms spreading out across the surface. “Tell me what you want.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Pink flared in her cheeks, though her voice offered no quiver of hesitation. “Cock. Now. Or I swear to Merlin—”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His hand cracked against her arse, warmth blooming beneath his tingling palm. “I’ll stop right this second if you threaten to give all of the biscuits away.” Just to spite her, he plucked a warm cookie from the tray and bit into it as her mouth snapped shut. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s what I thought,” he chuckled, fingers probing her entrance before sinking into the silken heat between her supple thighs. The sugary dough melted in his mouth as his fingers worked within her, drawing his perfect wife closer to the edge with each languid stroke, thumb just bumping against her clit. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry,” she whined, pitch of her voice creeping upwards as his fingers teased. He took his time, ignoring her plea as he finished the biscuit in his mouth before deftly flicking his belt open and lowering his trousers. Relief flooded him as his cock sprang free, thick and swollen with need. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He drew his hand away from her body, strings of wetness clinging to his fingers which he used to stroke his cock, coating himself in her arousal before he probed her entrance and pressed forward with a groan. Calloused hands from years of Quidditch gripped her hips as he drew her body to his, their hips meeting as he sheathed himself fully within her. Euphoria flooded his body with each slow, languorous stroke, slick walls gripping his cock as if her body wanted to keep them connected.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Faster, Harry. Gods, I need you to fucking move.” He caught sight of the muscles of her arms tightening as she braced herself against the counter, head arched back in pleasure. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Harry smiled, eyes drifting closed, sinking into pleasure with each slow thrust. “Greedy girl, you just want to come.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” she moaned as his fingers parted her folds and stroked her clit, forming a tight vee around the sensitive bud. “Want to come all over your cock. Want you to </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> me.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A low growl rumbled from his chest and his hips snapped forward. He was planning on drawing it out, taking them to the last possible second before the timer sounded before he let her come, but he couldn’t refuse her. Rapturous tendrils of pleasure curled around his body with each unforgiving thrust, each clutch of her walls around his cock. The movement of his fingers against her clit grew erratic until she pushed him away and swirled her fingers around the bundle of nerves. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Harry’s hands tightened around Pansy’s hips, the pads of his fingers pressing dents into the heated flesh. “You’re fucking perfect. So hot and wet and </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> Pansy, so god damned tight.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>White burst behind his eyelids as her walls caught him in a tight grip, barely able to move as she shattered around him. Her thighs trembled beneath his hands and he soothed her through her pleasure with slow, deliberate strokes until he found himself panting, emptying himself within her with a gratified groan. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His stubbled chin scraped over the silk of her nightshirt as he gasped for breath, his body covering hers, the scent of sex and sugary biscuits surrounding them. Harry’s hand brushed over her sodden folds and slowly withdrew his cock. His fingers caught the creamy drops of their combined pleasure and he pushed it back inside of her, holding his spend within her for a moment longer before it inevitably dripped down her thighs should he let go. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ease around,” he said, carefully keeping his hand in place as her body twisted. He lifted her onto the counter, capturing her mouth in a fierce kiss, tongue begging entrance with a swipe over her lips. She parted for him, pouted lips spreading as his fingers teased her sensitive folds. He swallowed her whimpers, soft sounds of her pleasure as his thumb brushed against her clit. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Too sensitive?” he asked, his fingers stilling. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She shook her head, “No, keep going.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A smile crossed his lips and he pressed a kiss to her cheek as she leaned further back against the counter, balancing on her elbows and forearms, feet braced against the countertop. His lips brushed over the swell of her breasts and the slip of silk covering her stomach. Hot breath washed over her folds, swollen and red with arousal, before his tongue parted her. His lips wrapped around her clit and he hollowed his cheeks, one of Pansy’s hands desperately flying to grip his hair as if she needed a tether to the world. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His fingers dipped further inside of her, stroking along the front wall of her pussy, drawing whimpers and moans from her body. His mouth dipped lower, fingers replacing his tongue as he tasted their combined spend when his tongue dipped inside of her. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Expletives fell from Pansy’s lips amid delicate gasps and dark growls as he fucked her with his tongue, fingers drawing circles over her clit before he switched again, plunging his fingers deep within her. Her grip on his hair tightened as his mouth curved aroundthe bundle of nerves and his wife, who had been teetering on the edge of pleasure, crested with his name upon her lips. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He watched the rise and fall of her sweat-slicked chest as pleasure overwhelmed her, eyes trailing over every inch of her body he could see from between her generous thighs. Arousal splashed over his tongue as he drew it through her folds, ending with a gentle flick to her clit before he kissed each inner thigh and covered her body with his own. Harry leaned forward and softly pressed a reverent kiss against her lips, gathering the sated witch in his arms. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With a grin he pulled back just enough to snatch another biscuit from the tray just as the</span>
  <em>
    <span> tempus </span>
  </em>
  <span>flashed above them. He bit into it, the taste of </span>
  <em>
    <span>them</span>
  </em>
  <span> still coating his tongue as the oven opened and the trays switched themselves out without her so much as lifting her wand. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t help but laugh. “I thought we only had twelve minutes.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Pansy smiled up at him, snatching the biscuit from between his fingers. “Well, it was a challenge.” </span>
</p>
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